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Wings of Oppression 



JxESLiE PINCKNEY iULL 




Class _t:S_2)£LSl 
Book._J^ 







The Wings of Oppression 



^—^^^ 



By 
LESLIE PINCKNEY HILL 




BOSTON 

THE STRATFORD CO., Publishers 

1921 






Copyright 1921 

The STRATFORD CO., Publishers 

Boston, Mass. 



The Alpine Press, Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 



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Vo Jane Clark Hill 



FOREWORD 



NOTHING in the life of the nation has 
seemed to me more significant than that 
dark civilization which the colored man has 
built up in the midst of a white society organ- 
ized against it. The Negro has been driven 
under all the burdens of oppression, both ma- 
terial and spiritual, to the brink of desperation, 
but he has always been saved by his philosophy 
of life. He has advanced against all opposition 
by a certain elevation of his spirit. He has been 
made strong in tribulation. He has constrained 
oppression to give him wings. 

In such poems as Armageddon, The Black 
Man's Bit, and Cora, I have desired to exhibit 
something of this indestructible spiritual qual- 
ity of my race. In the others I have wished 
merely to be brought into harmonj^ with cur- 
rents of thought and feeling common to all 
humanit}^ I trust that there may be in all at 
least an implied appeal to that spirit of human 
brotherhood by which alone the world must find 
the path to peace. 

For permission to reprint some of these poems 
I am indebted to ^'The Crisis," "The Outlook," 
"The Independent," "Life," and various other 
publications. 

Leslie Pinckney Hill. 
Cheyney, Pennsylvania, March, 1921. 



Contents 



The Wings of Oppression 



Poems of My People 

♦" Armageddon 
My Race 
Tuskegee 
Freedom 
Jim Crow 
"So Quietly" 

, Cora 
To a Caged Canary 
Mater Dolorosa 
^he Black Man's Bit 
To the Chinese 
Matto Grosso 
Self-Determination 



5 
13 
14 
15 
16 
17 
19 
21 
22 
23 
26 
27 
31 



Poems of the Times 

A Call to Poets 

The Ships .... 

Ode to Patriotism . 

The Launching of the Quistconk 

The Heart of the World 

Clemenceau .... 

The Founder .... 

To All Leaders of Men . 

Brixton Prison 



35 
37 

40 
42 
44 
45 
46 
48 
50 



CONTENTS 



Poems of Appreciation 



Lines Written in the Alps above Chamonix . 55 


To the Smartweed 


. 59 


To William James .... 


. 61 


ToMrs.J.B.T 


62 


Two Women . . . 


. 63 


The Actress 


. 64 


The Piano-Player 


. 65 


Prevision 


. 66 


To a Nobly-gifted Singer 


. 67 


Katerina Breshkovskaya 


. 68 


Christmas at Melrose 


. 09 


The Metropolitan Tower 


. 71 


A City Park 


' . 72 


The Symphony .... 


. 73 


The Borglum Statue of Lincoln 


. 75 


She Will Come .... 


. 76 


Spring 


. 79 


The Dogwood .... 


. 80 


May Again 


. 82 


Summer Magic .... 


. 85 


Sacred Music at Sea 


. 87 


Vacation End 


. 89 


Boys Swimming .... 


. 90 


A Legend of the Easter Children . 


. 91 



Songs 



Sweetest, let no cloud of sorrow 
Lady who is richer far 
All through the day I bore the pain 
Mutatis Mutandis . . , , 



97 
98 
99 

100 



CONTENTS 

Poems of the Spirit 

A Prayer 103 

A Far Country 104 

Nil Desperandum ...... 105 

Ideal 106 

The Wonder 108 

Watch Night 109 

Values 110 

Tyrant Beauty Ill 

The Three Marys .113 

Companionship ...... 114 

Home is the Heart ...... 115 

Compensation . . . . . . 117 

Certainty 118 

In the Still Night 119 

Father Love 120 

Divine AjBfinity 121 

Learning to Walk 122 

The Teacher .124 



The Wings of Oppression 

I HAVE a song that few will sing 
In honor of all suffering, 
A song to which my heart can bring 
The homage of believing — 
A song the heavy-laden hears 
Above the clamor of his fears, 
While still he walks with blinding tears, 
And drains the cup of grieving. 

I ask not why, I only see 

How poor is all our potency, 

How soon the wise, the strong, the free 

Some deadly bane discloses ; 

While he whose bread is doubly priced, 

By whom all gain is sacrificed. 

Keeps near to beauty, near to Christ, 

And Socrates and Moses. 

The captains and the gilded kings, 
With all their marshalled underlings, 
Are found to be but puny things. 
Impermanent and hollow ; 

[I] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

While up through terror, blood and dearth. 
Poor men accounted little worth, 
Still raise the beacon lights of earth 
For truth and faith to follow. 

So long as life is steeped in wrong. 

And nations cry : ' ' How long, how long ! ' ' 

I look not to the wise and strong 

For peace and self-possession; 

But right will rise, and mercy shine, 

And justice lift her conquering sign 

Where lowly people starve and pine 

Beneath a world oppression. 

sweet is power, dear is ease, 
And beauty cannot fail to please. 
But mightier far than all of these 
Those chastenings of sorrow 
By which alone the heart will dare 
To mount beyond a world of care 
On visions bright bej^ond compare 
Of better things tomorrow. 



[2] 



POEMS OF MY PEOPLE 



POEMS OF MY PEOPLE 



Armageddon 

Written at the outbreak of the world war, — just 
after President Wilson's appeal to the country for a 
"poise of undisturbed judgment," — to express the 
significance to the trammeled millions of colored peo- 
ple the world over, and especially to the American 
Negro, of that spirit of the times which well nigh des- 
troyed civilization. The poem was originally pub- 
lished in "The Crisis" under the title, "Die Zeitgeist." 

BEFORE the whirlwind and the thunder- 
shock. 
The agony of nations, and this wild 
Eruption of the passionate will of man, 
These tottering bastions of mighty states. 
This guillotine of culture, and this new 
Unspeakable Golgotha of the Christ, 
My heart declares her faith, and, undismaj^ed, 
I write her prompting — write it in that poise 
Of judgment undisturbed to which our Head 
Admonishes the nation. 

But have I 
A certain warrant? Does the cannon roar 
Above the mangled mj^ riads washed in blood 

[5] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

Upon a hundred fields embolden me 
To vent the doctrine of a private heart ! 
Nay, ask it not, for God hath chosen still 
The weak thing, and the foolish, and the base, 
And that which is despised to work His will ; 
And humble men are chartered yet to run 
Upon His errands round the groaning sphere. 
Not many of the mighty shall be called, 
Not many that dispute, not many wise. 
That so the prophecy may be fulfilled. 

Among the least of men of many strains, 
Whose origin outdates the pyramids, 
Uncherished of my country — though the blood 
Of all my fathers ran to make her free — 
Known by a name that typifies the slave, 
Synonj^mous with darkness, and by that 
Set in the ranks of mortals least esteemed, 
I claim no merit save the love of truth, 
And care to find for her a lodging-place. 

I have been- bred and born beneath the stern 

Duress and cold inhospitality 

Of that environment which prejudice 

Fills consciously with bane ; and I have sought- 

Blessed be the God of mercy — at the shrine 

Of thought inviolate the wells of peace. 

[6] 



POEMS OP MY PEOPLE 

There, fortified and unmolested, long 
Have I in contemplation rued the plight 
Of all my kind, and reverently aspired 
To ponder out our mission, unconvinced 
That we are born the dupes of Providence, 
To be a nation's burden and her taunt, 
Or Ishmaels of an unchosen land. 

My quest has been to know the good of life. 
And why a race should be, and what endures 
Of that which man has called society. 
And — last and highest aim of these pursuits — 
To learn what perfect service, born of throes 
Dreadful but purgative, we yet might dare 
To offer thee, country of our hope. 

And from these musings — thanks to Him 
Whose citadels are stars, with time and space 
Their pylons, but Who builds His favored home 
Upon the docile trust of lowly hearts — 
Proceeded comfort, patience to endure. 
And strength increasing of a faith sublime 
Which neither infidelity in arms, 
Nor all the bitter usage of the world 
Can e^er avail to tarnish or impair. 

[7] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

For looking out upon the world I saw 
No hope for future man in those who stand 
Upon the heights of power, save in the tales 
Transmitted of their slow decline and fall. 
Because they spurn the truth of brotherhood, 
And trade in life, and mock the living God 
By high contempt of all His humbler sons, 
The strong battalions of eternal right 
And nature's law make their discomfort sure. 
They prove the error of that pride of race 
And nation which has been the world's despite, 
And unloosed Mammon for a thousand years. 
Not all their transient lordship of the earth. 
Their cunning in the traffic of the world, 
The condescension of their patronage, 
Or thundering proclamations of their might, 
Can check the springs of pity, while our prayers 
Besiege the throne of mercy for their weal. 

But looking in upon my stricken peers, 
I saw upon their swarthy brows ' ' the gleam ; ' ' 
I saw the lineaments of hope new-born 
For peoples yet to be. scorn it not, 
Ye mighty of all lands, ye that are raised 
To glory on the necks of trampled men ! 
For now within your midst are multitudes 
Puissant though despised, meek men of prayer, 

[8] 



POEMS OP MY PEOPLE 

Dark, shackled knights of labor, clinging still 

Amidst a universal wreck of faith 

To cheerfulness, and foreigners to hate. 

These know ye not, these have ye not received, 

But these shall speak to you Beatitudes. 

Around them surge the tides of all your strife. 

Above them rise the august monuments 

Of all your outward splendor, but they stand 

Unenvious in thought, and bide their time. 

Because ye schooled them in the arts of life, 
And gave to them your God, and poured your 

blood 
Into their veins to make them what they are, 
They shall not fail you in your hour of need. 
They hold in them enough of you to feel 
All that has made you masters in your time — 
The power of art and wealth, unending toil. 
Proud types of beaut}^, an unbounded will 
To triumph, wondrous science, and old law — 
These have they learned to value and to share. 

But deeper in them still is something steeled 
To hot abhorrence and unmeasured dread 
Of your undaunted sins against the light — 

[9] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

Red sins of lust, of envy and of greed, 
Of guilty gain extorted from the weak, 
Of brotherhood traduced and God denied. 
All this have they beheld without revolt. 
And borne the brunt in agonizing prayer. 
For those deep strains of blood that flow from 

times 
Older than Egypt, whence the dark man gave 
The rudiments of learning to all lands, 
Have been a strong constraint. And they have 

dreamed 
Of a peculiar mission under heaven. 
And felt the force of unexampled gifts 
That make for them a rare inheritance — 
The gift of cheerful confidence in men. 
The gift of calm endurance, solacing 
An infinite capacity for pain, 
The gift of an unfeigned humilit}^ 
That blinds the eyes of strident arrogance 
And bigot pride to that philosophy 
And that far-glancing wisdom which it veils. 
The gift of feeling for all forms of life. 
Of deathless hope in trouble, and of wide 
Adaptive power without a parallel 
In chronicles of men, and over all, 
And more than all besides, the gift of God 
Expressed in rhj^thmic miracles of song. 

[10] 



POEMS OF MY PEOPLE 

these are gifts, I said a thousand times 
Richer than Ophir, stronger than the might 
Of armament to conquer and to cure — 
Gifts destined yet to permeate the earth, 
To heal it of its mighty heresies, 
And all its brutal blasphemy of war. 

So viewing all my brothers in distress, 

Hindered and cursed and aliens, I have wept 

And prayed for them in solitude apart, 

That they might know themselves a chosen folk. 

Unrecognized but potent, chastened still. 

But chartered to be ministers of truth. 

To search the depths of spirit, to go forth 

To woo and win a perfect self-control. 

To breed strong children exercised in prayer, 

Shunning as they would death the patterns set 

By those who hold the kingdoms and the sway. 

So might they with the pregnant years become 

New arbiters of social destiny, 

New health veins in the body politic, 

A high-commissioned people, mingled through 

With all the bloods of man, and, counselling 

Peace, and the healing grace of brotherhood, 

''Have power in this dark world to lighten it, 

And power in this dead world to make it live." 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

When through my being, like a lyre strung, 
These winds of temporal occurrence sweep, 
I hear a kind of music, high and low. 
And ranging from the tortured earth to heaven, 
Throbbing with tragic cadence to express 
The passing and the coming life of man. 

And though the tempests rage and earth be 

stirred 
To her foundations, though the lucid air 
Become a menace, and the beauteous world 
Be bathed in fire, I am undismayed. 
The cataclysmic travail prophecies 
The dawn of one world-conscience for all men. 
The breaking up of caste and race and creed, 
The warfare of all war against itself. 



■^to' 



And hence in my low place this living peace 
That grows and deepens, while the staggered 

frames 
Of ancient kingdoms reel beneath a weight 
Of crimes so vast that genius strives in vain 
To compass them in thought : for out of this, 
The spirit saith, shall issue other breeds 
Soul-burdened like my brothers, and like them 
Despised and trammeled, but sent forth to teach 
That nothing in the changing world endures 
But truth and love and brotherhood and God. 

[12] 



POEMS OF MY PEOPLE 



M 



My Race 

Y life were lost, if I should keep 
A hope-forlorn and gloomy face, 



And brood upon my ills, and weep 
And mourn the travail of my race. 

Who are my brothers ? Only those 
Who were my own complexion swart ? 
Ah no, but all through whom there flows 
The blood-stream of a manly heart. 

Wherever the light of dreams is shed, 
And faith and love to toil are bound, 
There will I stay to break my bread, 
For there my kinsmen will be found. 



[13] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



y\ 



Tuskegee 

THEREFORE this busy labor without 
' rest ? 

Is it an idle dream to which we cling, 
Here where a thousand dusky toilers sing 
Unto the world their hope? ''Build we our best 
By hand and thought," they cry, "although un- 
blessed. ' ' 
So the great engines throb and anvils ring. 
And so the thought is wedded to the thing ; 
But what shall be the end, and what the test ? 
Dear God, we dare not answer, we can see 
Not man}^ steps ahead, but this we knoAV — 
If all our toilsome building is in vain, 
Availing not to set our manhood free, 
If envious hate roots out the seed we sow, 
The South will wear eternally a stain. 



[14] 



POEMS OF MY PEOPLE 



Freedom 

O FREEDOM, let thy perfect work be 
wrought 
111 us, the children of a chastened race. 
Long, long ago in thy benignant face 
Our fathers saw ''the gleam." They meekly 

brought 
Their shackled limbs in faith to thee, and sought 
Thy heart with prayer; and thou didst rend 

apace 
The bonds of men who leaned upon thy grace, 
Their spirits with a tuneful patience fraught. 
We call upon thee now no more in chains 
Such as our fathers wore — from these we're 

freed — 
But clanging still the fetters of the soul. 
''The gleam" we follow weakty, for we need 
The Freedom of a sturdy self-control . 



[15] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



Jim C 



row 



BY what dread logic, by what grand neglect, 
Wide as our nation, doth this relic last — 
This relic of old sterile customs past 
Long since into deep shame without respect? 
Even I whom this contrivance fain would teach 
A low submission, pray within my soul 
That these my masters may not reap the dole 
Of finding remedy beyond their reach. 
In lofty mood I mount the reeking box, 
And travel through the land. So Terence once 
Moved in old Rome, so — wondrous paradox — 
]\Ioved Esop in old Greece, the dwarf and dunce, 
Then I reflect how their immortal wit 
Makes the world laugh with mockery of it. 



[16] 



POEMS OF MY PEOPLE 



*'So Quietly** 

News item from the New York Times on the lynch- 
ing of a Negro at Smithville, Ga., December 21, 1919 

"The train was boarded so quietly . . . that mem- 
bers of the train crew did not know that the mob had 
seized the Negro until informed by the prisoner's 

guard after the train had left the town A 

coroner's inquest held immediately returned the ver- 
dict that West came to his death at the hands of un- 
identified men." 

SO quietly they stole upon their prey 
And dragged him out to death, so without 
flaw 
Their black design, that they to whom the law 
Gave him in keeping, in the broad, bright day, 
Were not aware when he was snatched away ; 
And when the people, with a shrinking awe, 
The horror of that mangled body saw, 
' ' By unknown hands ! ' ' was all that they could 
say. 

So, too, my country, stealeth on apace 

The soul-blight of a nation. Not with drums 

Or trumpet blare is that corruption sown, 

[17] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

But quietly — now in the open face 
Of day, now in the dark — and when it comes, 
Stern truth will never write, "By hands un- 
known. ' ' 



fi81 



POEMS OF MY PEOPLE 



Cora 

I WOULD that you knew my Cora, 
Lithe, high-mmded, buoj^ant maid, 
Her face is dusk like the twilight shade, 
But her fine teeth gleam, and her eyes are bright 
With a heartening mirth and a tender light. 
I would that you knew my Cora. 

I would you could see my Cora. 

Sometimes we walk upon the street 

And many a fairer lady meet : 

AVith gay apparel and lofty air 

The}" haven't so much as a glance to spare 

For passing dusky Cora. 

Then I look over at Cora. 

Her step is light, her head is high. 

The joy of living is in her eye. 

She seems a part of all she sees — 

It is one and the same if the ladies please 

To look or not to Cora. 

[19] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

Once when I walked with Cora 
We hungered in the tedious way 
And turned aside for bread, but they 
Who kept the place in whispers said 
That dusky folk they never fed, 
Folk like myself and Cora. 

I would you had then seen Cora. 
The surge of pride that filled her heart 
Compelled one burning tear to start. 
But she brushed it by with a queenly shame, 
Nor spoke one word of wrath or blame, 
But went forth blithely as she came, 
And I went forth with Cora. 



20j 



POEMS OF MY PEOPLE 



To a Caged Canary in a Negro Restaurant 

THOU little golden bird of happy song! 
A cage cannot restrain the rapturous joy 
Which thou dost shed abroad. Thou dost employ 
Thy bondage for high uses. Grievous wrong 
Is thine ; yet in thy heart glows full and strong 
The tropic sun, though far beyond thy flight, 
And though thou flutterest there by da}^ and 

night 
Above the clamor of a dusky throng. 
So let my will, albeit hedged about 
B}^ creed and caste, feed on the light within ; 
So let my song sing through the bars of doubt 
With light and healing where despair has been ; 
So let my people bide their time and place, 
A hindered but a sunny-hearted race. 



[21] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



Mater Dolorosa 

O MOTHER, there are moments when I 
knoAV 
God's presence to the full. The city street 
May \ATap me m the tumult and the heat 
Of futile striving; bitter winds may blow 
With winter-wilting freeze of hail and snow, 
And all my hopes lie shattered in defeat ; 
But in my heart the springtime blossoms sweet, 
And heaven seems very near the way I go. 

These moments are the angels of that prayer 
Which thou has breathed for many a troubled 

year 
With bended knee and swarthy-streaming face — 
"Uphold him, Father, with a double care: 
He is but mortal, yet his days must bear 
The world cross, and the burden of his race. ' ' 



[22] 



POEMS OP MY PEOPLE 



The Black Man's Bit 

O THERE 'S talk from school to pulpit, and 
the barber's place is rife, 
And the shoe shop and the supper table hum. 
With the tale of Dixie 's black men who have 

shared the mighty strife 
For that freedom of the better time to come. 
Every mother's eye is brighter, every father's 

back is straighter. 
And our girls are tripping lightly in their pride, 
And by none except a Teuton, or a slacker, or a 

traitor, 
Will the right to their elation be denied. 

They said they were too slow, too dull, too this 
and that to do it. 

They couldn 't match the method of the Hun, 

And then to arm a million — why, the land would 
surely rue it 

If a million blacks were taught to use a gun. 

But right won out, and they went in at all de- 
tractors smiling; 

They learned as quick as any how to shoot, 

[23] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

They took the prize at loading ships, and rivet- 
ing and piling, 
And trained a thousand officers to boot. 

And when they went 'twas with a boon no others 

had been bringing, 
For whether with a pick or with a gun, 
They lightened every labor with a wondrous sort 

of singing, 
And turned the pall of battle into fun. 
the Frenchman was a marvel, and the Yankee 

was a wonder. 
And the British line was like a granite wall. 
But for singing as they leaped away to draw the 

Kaiser's thunder, 
The swarthy sons of Dixie beat them all. 

And now that they have helped to break the 
rattling Hunnish sabre, 

They'll trail the Suwanee River back again 

To Dixie home, and native song, and school and 
honest labor. 

To be as men among their fellow-men. 

No special thanks or praise they'll ask, no clap- 
ping on the shoulder — 

They did their bit, and won, and all men know 
it— 

[24] 



POEMS OF MY PEOPLE 

And Dixie will be proud of them, and grown a 

little older, 
And wiser, too, will welcome them and show it. 



[25] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



To the Chinese 

REJOICE, ancient brothers of the East. 
I hear your voices thrill across the seas, 
And hail you, too, unto the marriage feast 
Of waking men. Did not the Japanese 
Put on the wedding garments bright and new 
Though long denied by silly creeds of skin. 
Rise ye, and break the ''cake of custom" 

through, 
And, at the New World bidding, enter in. 
Faint not, brothers, if the forward way 
Must lie through fire and famine, death and 

blood. 
There follow you the kindling sympathies 
Of other trammeled millions, and some day 
These shall pour forth in swarthy hordes and 

flood 
Some worthy field, and be your staunch allies. 



[26] 



POEMS OP MY PEOPLE 



Matto Grosso 

In the unexplored fastnesses of Brazil, known as 
Matto Grosso, the great South American scientist 
and statesman, Rondon, has proved the power of 
unafraid democracy to elevate a backward race. 
His great work has brought hope and inspiration to 
millions of colored people here in the northern con- 
tinent. 

THY fastnesses are like the untried depths 
Of the unfathomed soul of man — as dark, 
As terrible, as full of healing balm, 
With danger lurking where no eye can see, 
Trackless and wild, j^et docile to the touch 
Of sympathy, and pregnant with all good, 
^he shadows brooding like a guilty thought 
About thee bar the long-besieging sun, 
And lure the mind to prophecy and fear. 

Thou art a mighty mother boasting in 

An inexhaustible fecundity. 

What breathing, struggling, furtive, feral 

thing 
Hast thou not brought to life ! Thy vastness 

teems 

."27] 



THE WINGS OP OPPRESSION 

With such an upward urge of flaming trees, 

Of vine and herb and flower and weed and shrub, 

Of little swarming insect parasites, 

Of fiery creatures bent upon their prey, 

Of birds with all the colors God has made, 

That nature could herself dream nothing more. 

And thou hast bred a race of primal men — 

A child-like folk. They stand within the doors 

Of the great mansion-house of fateful time, 

Gazing within the chambers of the past ' 

Where all their kinsmen died in tragedy, 

And with a little fleeting smile of hope 

As they look out upon the times to come — 

Surviving naked men, the challengers 

Of judgment and of all democracy. 

And yet thou art a virgin. Thou dost hold 
Thy untouched treasures all inviolate, 
Till men with wider knowledge, finer skill. 
With passionate devotion, and a faith 
That makes it joy to bind their lives to thee 
With all their fortunes and unstinted toil, 
Shall woo thy heart and win thee to themselves. 
Then from thy womb shall spring another breed 
Of new-world people teeming to possess 
Thy future, to unlock thy nameless stores 
And use the fullness of thy virile strength 

[28] 



POEMS OF MY PEOPLE 

To build a fair new nation of free men 
In justice, mercy, brotherhood and truth. 

wild demesne, thou art a wilderness, 
And yet thou art to me a promised land 
More wonderful than that which Israel 
Sought by the special leadership of God. 
For one there is already called to be 
More than thy Moses, one who holds the wand 
Of modern science that shall make thy voice 
Articulate, and link thy largesse up 
With all its multiplying benefits. 
By open pathwa^^s to the waiting world — 
Rondon, thy bounteous father. 

Let me tell 
How thy warm southern winds have wafted on 
His name to stir our harsher northern clime, 
How I, myself, son of a race oppressed. 
Have seen afar there in thy tropic sun 
His banner fl3ang high with God's good will 
Emblazoned bold upon it, and how all 
My troubled brothers grasp anew at life 
With firmer confidence because of him. 
'Tis he, and such as he alone, whose hand 
Can mend the riven fabric of the world, 
Or use the fragile instruments of peace 

[29] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

In that dread surgery whose end shall be 
To lop from off the body of mankind 
The cancerous, fetid, tumor-growth of war. 

Land of all marvels, I will end my song. 
My prayerful song of honor unto thee, 
By deep thanksgiving to thy mother soul 
For pouring down from forest, hill and glade 
Unnumbered multitudes of little streams 
And springs that grow to rivers rushing on 
To find the sea. Where is the like of these 
For number or for meaning ! Where is earth 
So laved, so watered without ceasing, or 
So nurtured into all productiveness? 
For ages have those waters run their course 
At length unto the ocean, blending there 
With all the tides that beat upon the shores 
Of every habitable land. In vain 
Have they for ages gathered there to sing 
That life is one, and man and God are one. 
And love and truth and beauty all are one. 



[30] 



POEMS OF MY PEOPLE 



Self-Determination 

The philosophy of the American Negro 

FOUR things we will not do, in spite of all 
That demons plot for our decline and fall ; 
We bring four benedictions w^hich the meek 
Unto the proud are privileged to speak, 
Four gifts by which amidst all stern-browed 

races 
We move Avith kindly hearts and shining faces. 

We ivill not hate. Law, custom, creed and caste, 
All notwithstanding, here we hold us fast. 
Down through the years the mighty sliips of 

state 
Have all been broken on the rocks of hate. 

We will not cease to laugh and multiply 
We slough oif trouble, and refuse to die. 
The Indian stood unyielding, stark and grim; 
We saw^ him perish, and we learned of him 
To mix a grain of philosophic mirth 
With all the crass injustices of earth. 

[31] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

We will not use the ancient carnal tools 
These never won, yet centuries of schools, 
Of priests, and all the work of brush and pen 
Have not availed to win the wisest men 
From futile faith in battleship and shell : 
"We see them fall, and mark that folly well. 

We will not waver in our loyalty. 
No strange voice reaches us across the sea ; 
No crime at home shall stir us from this soil. 
Ours is the guerdon, ours the blight of toil, 
But raised above it by a faith sublime 
We choose to suffer here and bide our time. 

And if we hold to this, we dream some day 
Our countrymen will follow in our way . 



32 



POEMS OF THE TIMES 



POEMS OF THE TIMES 



A Call to Poets 

1 

RISE up from dalliance with little things, 
poets of all lands. Your golden age 
Is now, and all the world your heritage. 
The nations perish till ye sweep the strings 
With re-creative music. He that sings 
With poAver now to calm the peoples' rage 
Will bind the future to his tutelage, 
And give the heav^^-laden present wings. 
Where is your lost dominion? Once ye framed 
A heaven of beauty pillared firm in peace. 
And ye were called the shepherds of the soul 
By what default was that high priesthood 

shamed ? 
How did the magic of your music cease 
To win the human heart, and keep it whole? 

2 

The world is all a wrack and battle-storm. 
Stand not abashed while the red warriors break 
The heart of Christ, and blundering statesmen 
quake 

[35] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

In impotence. Build in great verse that norm 
By which to mold this chaos back to form. 
Let not one line be lawless, lest ye make 
A wider wreckage still. Now must ye wake 
The lyre of peace with passion deep and warm. 
Tell mortals that the tides of night and day, 
The dewdrop, and the planet's mighty swing 
Nay, life and death itself, must all obey 
The eternal harmonies that poets sing. 
And that to raise up beauty over war 
Is all ye come to earth from heaven for. 



[36] 



POEMS OF THE TIMES 



The Ships 

WHAT heart of man did never glow 
To see the great ships come and go, 
Or feel what miracles are these 
Upon the highway of the seas. 
Whenever I go to the harbor shore 
The wonder holds me more and more 
Until my spirit yearns to cry 
Out to the vessels drifting by : 
"Bold breasters of the wind and tide, 
On what far errands do you ride? 
Your funnels fume and your engines strain 
To speed you over the tided main. 
And all the harbor is gay and bright 
Where your colors fly and the waves curl white 
From man}^ a sturdy-cleaving keel. 
But do 3^ou ride for woe or weal ? 
And when the weary course is done, 
What good for human kind is won?" 
And the stately vessels drifting by 
Seem thus to deign a prompt reply : 
*'We herald the fate of human souls 
By a thousand ways to a thousand goals, 

U7] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

And set at naught wind, tide and weather 

To bring the tribes of the earth together. 

Whether the skies are gray or blue 

We plough the mounting billows through, 

Lest we should seem to give suspense 

To the mighty plan of Providence. 

For God has said His people all 

Are one, and the}^ shall hear the call 

Each of the other, and each shall speed 

In His good time to the other's need. 

And they shall come from northern snows, 

From the torrid isle where the monsoon blows, 

From the farthest plains and mountain tips, 

And all go down to the sea in ships. 

And none shall have a gift or skill. 

Or an}^ power of mind or will, 

Or any good the hand hath wrought, 

Or any luring dream or thought 

Of truth or beauty yet to be 

The graces of humanity. 

But we must bear it safe and fast. 

Or flash it out from the top of the mast 

Upon the pulses of the air 

To all the people everywhere. 

We carry the tares with the wholesome grain. 

And the joy we bear is born of pain. 

And death is with us and disease, 

[38] 



POEMS OF THE TIMES 

And we must fare through crimsoned seas 
Till men of every land and race 
Shall know each other face to face. 
And all shall take and all shall give, 
And all shall learn at last to live 
And labor for the sovereign good 
Of universal brotherhood." 



[39] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



Ode to Patriotism 

FAIR goddess, though thy devotees 
Are men of every land and tongue, 
Thy heart they never yet could please; 
And though thy majesty is sung 
By statesman, warrior and bard, 
Still on thy brow a stern regard 
Proves thy disdain, and quickening their fears. 
Brings them before thy fane in bitterness and 
tears. 

As when a suitor, plighting all 

His troth unto some high-souled maid, 

Makes protestations prodigal. 

But finds her loftily afraid, 

And still reluctant to aver 

Like passion, till that love of her 

Enters the temple of her purer mind 

As homage less for one than for all womankind — 

So, holier mistress, hast thou shown 
Why still we fall on horrid days, 
Why our best hopes are overthrown 

[40] 



POEMS OF THE TIMES 

In spite of all our prayer and praise ; 

For thou wouldst have our love expand 

Beyond mere race or bounded land, 

And thou wouldst test our proffered troth to thee 

By what we deeply crave for all humanity . 

Build up again our broken faith, 

Fair deity ; unloose the gyves 

Of hate ; allay the gruesome wraith 

Of murderous war ; and lead our lives 

Back to the peace that springs of love 

For man as man, and mounts above 

Land, caste, or creed ! teach our wrathful time 

That brotherhood is still man's destiny sublime. 



[41] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



The Launching of the Quistconk 

T'TTE launcli more than a ship today. 
y V Down her smooth ways unto the tide 
She bears in every seam and stay 
A mighty nation's marshalled pride. 
Before her stern, majestic hnlk 
Our distant higher vision sees 
Crime, frightfulness and treason skulk 
To certain doom on humbled knees. 
We launch more than a ship today: 
We hear more than our chieftain's word. 
The earth, the air, the watery way 
Are thronged with millions who are stirred 
To will that this good ship shall be, 
With all her strength and treasure store, 
And all her Christian chivalry, 
The herald of a thousand more. 
And these shall follow in her wake 
In ever quickening degrees. 
Until the endless line shall make 
That bridge of ships across the seas, 
At whose far end the hosts of God 

[42] 



POEMS OF THE TIMES 

Shall stand ^vitll all the power of ^arth, 
To raise up justice from the sod 
And give to freedom her new birth. 



[43] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



The Heart of the World 

THE men of war and the men of state 
Grope in the sloughs of blood and hate, 
The great guns range upon the seas, 
But the heart of the world is not in these. 
The weary chronicles still tell 
How tj'ranny and tyrant fell, 
But the heart of the world, Lord, how far 
From captain, kaiser, king or czar! 
The empty pomp of force and pride 
Has lived its brutal day and died. 
And all the gods of arrogance 
Have fled before the winds of chance, 
While time and fate conspire to plan 
A highwa}^ for the rights of man. 
And now where toilers feel the sting 
Of utter need and suffering. 
Where men are tortured from belief. 
And women manacled to grief. 
Where childhood walks in wild despair, 
The heart of all the world is there. 



[44] 



POEMS OF THE TIMES 



Clemence 



au 



On the attempt upon his life 

HE rode on tempests through a span of 
years 
That bridged two generations. Round his name 
Blew all the fitful winds of praise and blame : 
France heaped on him her plaudits and her 

sneers. 
And he was not deceived — he had his fears — 
But kept his patriot zeal bright as a flame ; 
And when upon his land the fire storms came, 
France gave him all her trust with grateful tears. 
So when the crazed assassin failed, we said : 
' ' May the kind will of God preserve him yet. 
Far nobler men may rise when he is dead, 
But this of him mankind will not forget — 
When earth shook with the tramping hordes of 

hell, 
He stood across their path, and held it well. ' ' 



[45] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



The Founder 

To THE STATUE OF WiLLIAM PeNN, CiTY HalL, 

Philadelphia, when peace was proclaimed, 
November 11, 1918. 



SWIFTER than Avind the mighty message 
came 
That t^^ranny had fallen, that the crime 
By which the great high traitor of our time 
Had fixed upon his race the foulest fame, 
And covered the whole earth with dread and 

shame 
And all the spawn of hell 's own murk and grime. 
Was purged away at last by that sublime 
Wrath of the world that rose in freedom's name. 
Then long-leashed passion broke upon the air 
And shook the city — cries of joy and grief, 
Wild, clamorous thanksgiving everywhere 
That God had brought mankind again relief, 
And never was a people known to be 
So caught away in utter ecstacy . 

[46] 



POEMS OF THE TIMES 



Then lifted I mine eyes to where thy face, 
Turned from the lurid night where king and 

throne 
Were sinking with the sun, looked forth alone 
Steadfastly to the dawn. Around thy base 
The tumult swept, but in that lofty place 
Thy form without a motion or a tone. 
Stood like a prophet who had long outgrown 
The fleeting passions of the human race. 
And one calm hand extended seemed to say, 
''Through travail of the ages, blood and pain. 
Freedom indeed is born anew today ; 
build ye now the bulwarks of her reign, 
Nor dare to dream the shouting triumph won 
Can yet avail until her work is done." 



[47] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



To All Leaders of Men 

THREE things there are that men will do 
Leaders of men, beware ! 
Your calling and election true 
Will shine, if they have faith that you 
Their stubborn purpose share. 

Men ivill see men as only men, 

masters, take ye heed ! 

No one shall hold the rights of ten, 

No mortal be divine again 

No counsel, pact, or creed. 

Men will he hold to follow thought. 
captains, ye shall find 
The peoples of the earth distraught 
By being merely led and taught, 
But now they have a mind. 

And men will share the wealth they make — 

To this of all attend. 

The worker for the worker's sake 

Will prove his power to give and take. 

That ancient greed may end. 

[48] 



POEMS OF THE TIMES 

Go not to wordy halls of state, 

Ye wise that can discern 

This threefold tidal pull of fate 

That rocks the world — too late, too late 

The statesmen stoop to learn. 

But through the w^aj^s w^here labor stalks 
Portentous with its load, 
The soul of God's great future talks, 
The genius of His purpose walks, 
And there must be your road. 



[49] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



Brixton Prison 

A Tribute to Lord Mayor MacSwiney of 
Cork who died on a hunger strike for the 
CAUSE OF Irish freedom. 

THE guard about thy somber walls 
May keep a martyr's limbs confined, 
But not the dauntless soul that calls 
The challenged conscience of mankind. 

MacSwine}^, wasting in the dark 
Forespent of all his manly use, 
Transforms a life into the spark 
That set the fires of freedom loose. 

He would not bend before the rude 
Attempt to make his life a lie; 
He scorned to taste oppression's food; 
He chose to be a man and die. 

Brixton prison, surely thou 
Art raised above thy base design: 
Thy terrors all are gone, and now 
Thou hast become a nation's shrine. 

[SO] 



POEMS OF THE TIMES 

And thou, lord mayor ! Now thy rule 
Far out from mourning Cork expands 
Thy spirit has become a school 
For patriot heroes in all lands. 



50 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 



POEMS OP APPRECIATION 



Lines Written in the Alps Above 
Chamounix 

HERE had one voice almost persuaded me 
To yield with sweet surrender all my heart 
In fee to endless beauty, here to bide 
And count as nothing worth the flight of days. 
Nor could I break at will the subtle spell 
That held me, as it hath held many more, 
With power that was more than argument. 

Forbear attempt at vain expression here ! 
Poet and painter both alike despair: 
A surfeit of all grandeur overwhelms 
The boldest gift, and dwarfs imagining. 
Here silence, and unutterable thought, 
And the blest gift of feeling must suffice. 

No monarch could be raised to higher state 
Than you or yonder careless shepherd girl 
That minds the grazing of the tinkling kine. 
Your meanest seat is heather royal-hued 
Girdled with nodding berries black and red, 
And flaming poppies sated with the sun, 

[55] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

Your carpet satin green, your body-guard 
Soft winds that blow a cooling for your brow 
To mock fan-bearers at the Sultan's throne. 
Dear music shall not fail you: evermore 
Upon your ear shall sound the clear flute note 
Of dripping water, or the happier tone 
Of slender streams that leap from bolder walls 
Singing of freedom from the t3^rant ice. 
Or, nobler still, up from the vale shall rise 
The river music of assembled streams 
In symphonies of service to the world. 

Look down upon that valley : there behold 
Sweet homes with human kindness heaven-dow- 
ered. 
Those husbandmen have not yet pawned their 

souls 
For bagatelles of profit, young men there 
Are not yet sickly, and the rosy dames 
Bear children that go springing to the fields. 
They make their valley plain lie in the sun 
Like some rich quilting wonderfull}" wrought 
In squares and angles of productiveness. 

Nor is the blessed Christ there travestied 
By sterile worship lavish of all forms 
And ceremonies, while its devotees 

[56] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 

Dishonor still a long-offended God 
By lofty scorn of all his humbler sons. 
Those reverent men give fearless benison 
To Mongol, Semite, African or Turk : 
They plant their crucifixes by the road. 
Or rear their cherished shrines upon the rocks 
As precious tokens and remembrancers 
To all men of the Universal Cross. 

For proof of God's unfettered pleasure here, 

Look up about those summits where he pours 

The light of morning round the monstrous ice, 

Round frosted peaks, and hanging frigid plains. 

Until they shower down a shining joy 

Upon thy lifted head, fill full thy soul 

With gladness that transfigures all the vale, 

And make the terrible a thing to love. 

The white refulgence of those argent snows 

Shall follow thee throughout the happy day 

With images of purity and peace, 

And nevermore shalt thou be what thou wert. 

Or, if at noon thy heart be prone to droop 

For sheer satiety of loveliness, 

Or beauty fail of strength, up through some 

cloud 
Soft as etheral eider-down will rise 

[57] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

The nakedness of brazen granite towers 
That were the pillars of the primal world; 
Eons of fury have they set at naught, 
And all the gnawing of the tooth of time : 
And these at noon shall be thy ministers 
When they hold up to God their gleaming 

crowns, 
And call thy human weakness back to strength. 

And 0, when downward rides the lordly sun 
Behind those summits, richer guerdons wait 
To hearten him who lingers to behold. 
Then the flushed earth strains up her jeweled 

head 
Towards the red passion of the bending skies ; 
Then the bright trees, the high green fields, the 

crags 
That pierce the clouds with menace, and the ice 
That shines upon them, all are built away 
In steep sierras like some glorious stair 
For angels mounting towards the face of God. 

And when at last the night has brought thee 

sleep, 
Th}^ couch shall be companioned by some dream 
Of what thine eyes have seen and thy heart felt ; 
And though the thought of never waking more 
Steal o'er thy frame, thou sh alt be satisfied. 

[58] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 



To the Smartweed 

1 

THOU art far more to me than blight and 
bane 
Alone, as rustics deem, who thus deny 
Thy regal Vvdll and martial quality. 

Often have I beheld the angered swain 

Charge through thy ranks with horse and steel 

in vain, 
And often have I seen the children try 
With gleaming blade to make thy banners fly 
Till every scion of thy stock was slain. 
But when the havoc tarried I have seen 
Thy striplings spring again to take the field, 
Choke the strong tuber, rout the bean forlorn, 
Shade every valued plant with insolent green, 
Constrain the earth to their prolific yield, 
And wave their purpling tops above the corn. 

2 

With plow and chain I saw the husbandman 
Tear up thy roots to Avither in the heat, 

[59] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

And drag thy foliage down to make a seat 
For the brown odorous furrow-crest that ran 
Across the mead where thy career began : 
But every blade and stalk that met defeat 
Rose up transfigured into sheaves of wheat, 
And wrought a conquest by a subtler plan. 
Ah, then I knew that he is more than blind 
And dim of thought who cannot surely see 
In thee the symbol of a world of men 
Swept down to darkness by the torrid wind 
Blown from the caves of fate eternally, 
In whom posterity will rise again. 



[60] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 



To William James 

DEVOTEDLY he watched the silent stream 
Of consciousnesSj and from the shifting 

brink, 
In lucid phrase, taught thousands how to think. 
No straightened logic's thrall, he prized the 

gleam i 

Of truth in all experience : the dream 
To him Avas precious too. He dared to link 
Reality with wonder, and to sink 
The plumb of thought down where all mysteries 

teem. 
Where is the light we knew upon his face — 
The zest for knowledge, searching and intense ? 
Gone out for aye in darkness deep and strange ? 
Or do they now at last find scope and place 
Where Thales still propounds the elements, 
And Heraclitus broods, " 'Tis only Change!" 



[6i] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



To Mrs. Jane B. Taylor 

SHALL I compare thee to the winter snow? 
So spotless is thy heart, but never cold: 
What though thy locks be changed from sunny 

gold 
To silver, still that perfect brow doth glow 
With human interest, still thou sayest, ''Go 
Straight forward, trust the dream, be strong, 

and hold 
The faith that love, with all its griefs untold, 
Is better than the fairest thing we know." 

So when the winter of my days shall fall, 
And snow lies white upon the barren ground 
Where I have wandered long, and learned the 

truth 
Of life, and drunk the wormwood and the gall, 
let my bosom, full of years, be found 
Still bearing the immortal heart of youth. 



[62] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 



Two Women 

JUST as my wonted task was done 
And day was fast declining, 
Two women passed, the low red sun 
Upon their faces shining. 

Their ample cloaks were gathered warm 
Against the winter weather; 
Their heads were bare, and arm in arm 
They crossed the lawn together. 

They seemed two spirits to inspire 
Even a mortal craven, 
For one had hair like a flame of fire, 
And one like the wing of a raven. 

With springy step, they passed along 
In joyous, bright communing, 
And in my heart there came a song 
I found delight in crooning. 

Come forth, masters, if you may. 
And choose, if you are able. 
The golden brightness of the day, 
Or the deep, deep night in sable. 

[63] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



The Actress 

'^T^HINK not her days are but an idle show 
JL Of artificial manners, speech and dress, 
Or that her meed of honor should be less 
Because her heart lives where the footlights 

glow 
Upon the garish scene, with weal and woe 
Of mimic passion. Let the happiness 
Of her brief hour be full : that bright success 
Is purchased far more dearly than we know. 
Pity, the wrapt spectators little sense 
Her nobler grace ! To "hold the mirror up," 
And thereby win the favor of our eyes 
Were well ; but what applause can recommense 
The tempered soul that drains the bitter cup 
Of a continual self-sacrifice ! 



[64] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 



The Piano-Player 

DLSTPv AUGHT with care, I said, ''Here 
shall be found 
A solace for great losses. Long ago, 
One gentle soul could lure away my woe 
Upon Beethoven's music; for he croAvned 
A world of sorrow with a heaven of sound. 
Thanks to the genius that has willed it so 
Those deathless harmonies again may flow 
From out this perforated scroll unwound." 
Then wondrous came the swelling chords, and 

sweet 
The troubled minor strain ; but how changed 
From the dear tones that brought my j^ounger 

heart 
A chastened wealth of happiness complete, 
When o'er the board her perfect fingers 

ranged 
With such expressive grace that tears would 

start ! 



[65] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



Prevision 

From the Portugese of Alberto de Oliveira 

I KNEW thy smile was but a passing spell, 
And yet I loved it — I loved it well. 
I loved the radiant meaning of thine eyes, 
Knowing that they would fail me, and likewise. 
Though breathed upon the wind, I had no 

choice 
But still to love the passion of thy voice. 
Now all has vanished — all is ended now — 
Enchanted voice, enamored glance. In vain 
I knew it would be so, and know not how 
It can avail me now if I complain. 



[66] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 



To a Nobly-Gifted Singer 

ALL the pleasance of her face 
Telleth of an inward grace; 
In her dark eyes I have seen 
Sorrows of the Nazarene ; 
In the proud and perfect mould 
Of her body I behold, 
Rounded in a single view 
The good, the beautiful, the true; 
And when her spirit goes up-winging 
On sweet air of artless singing 
Surely the heavenly spheres rejoice 
In union with a kindred voice. 



[67] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



Katerina Breshkovskaya 

*'nnpIOU Shalt die in the midst of thy battles," 
I They said of this mother of thought, 

When she bared to her countrymen, bared to 

the world, 
The evil a tyrant had wrought. 

But the tyrant was strong, and his minions, 

And they harried her out of the land, 

To the blight and the death of the frozen 

steppes, 
And the word she had uttered was banned. 

But that word was a fire, and prospered. 
And her thought was a wind and a rain. 
And it beat on the palace that stood on the 

sand. 
And it fell, and the tyrant was slain. 

who would not fall in such battles. 

What death could a mortal prefer, 

In the world-girding fight for honor and right, 

To the glory of dying like her! 

[68] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 



Christmas at Melrose 

C^OME home with me a little space 
J And browse about our ancient place, 
Lay by your wonted troubles here 
And have a turn of Christmas cheer. 
These sober walls of weathered stone 
Can tell a romance of their own, 
And these wide rooms of devious line 
Are kindly meant in their design. 
Sometimes the north wind searches through, 
But he shall not be rude to you. 
We'll light a log of generous girth 
For winter comfort, and the mirth 
Of health}^ children you shall see 
About a sparkling Christmas tree. 
Eleanor, leader of the fold, 
Hermione with heart of gold, 
Elaine with comprehending eyes, 
And two more yet of coddling size, 
Nathalie pondering all that's said. 
And Mary of the cherub head — 
All these shall give you sweet content 
And care-destroying merriment, 

[69] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

While one with true madonna grace 
Moves round the glowing fire-place 
Where father loves to muse aside 
And grandma sits in silent pride. 
And you may chafe the wasting oak, 
Or freely pass the kindly joke 
To mix with nuts and home-made cake 
And apples set on coals to bake. 
Or some fine carol we will sing 
In honor of the Manger-King, 
Or hear great Milton's organ verse. 
Or Plato's dialogue rehearse 
What Socrates with his last breath 
Sublimely said of life and death. 
These dear delights we fain would share 
With friend and kinsman everywhere, 
And from our door see them depart 
Each with a little lighter heart. 



[701 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 



The Metropolitan Tower 

LOOK down securely from thy dizzy height, 
soaring tower, upon the little street 
Where men below like termites seem to crawl 
In insignificance. Thou couldst not fear 
Comparison with any mighty pile 
From Babel or the pyramids till now. 
The clamor and confusion round thy base 
Shall never vex thy summit : there the sun 
Shall sit while twilight gathers at thy feet. 
Thy shoulders mock the straining of the storms, 
And if the earth be loyal to her trust, 
Old time shall waste his tooth in wasting thee. 
Thou art as wonderful to me as Blanc 
Or Fiji Yama or Niagara — 
These are the work of God, but thou of Man. 
It is thy privilege to symbolize 
In giant form the saving truth of art — 
That beauty's handmaid is utility, 
And strenofth their bond of love. 



[71] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



A City Park 

THE travail of the world roars like the sea 
Throughout the city-traffic, strife and haste, 
And all the petty trade wherein men waste 
The noblest graces of humanity. 
The sounding streets are thronged incessantly 
With feverish hordes driven and overpaced 
By the sharp whips of need, with little taste 
Or time for that which life was meant to be. 

But here is hope — here is a rescued spot. 
Where beauty waits in fountain, grass and flow- 
er, 
Where children play, and men turn from the 

hot, 
Mad mill of labor for a quiet hour 
To feel the cooling wash of the summer breeze. 
And glimpse the calm of heaven through the 
trees. 



[72] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 



The Symphony 

I THINK there scarcely can be given 
Nobler harmonies in heaven ; 
Seraph harps and voices swelling 
Could not be more heart-compelling; 
For these instruments have found 
All the ministries of sound, 
And their shriving tones have won me 
Far more good than priests have done me. 
What troublous passion-stirring comes 
Upon the thunder-rolling drums ! 
What weakness could withstand the scorns 
Blown by the bold courageous horns ! 
What grace is that the spirit needs 
Uncompassed by the lowly reeds, 
And who could keep a truce with sins 
That heard the pleading violins ! 
Oh, I was weary when I came 
To listen, for the sham and shame 
And poverty of mortal fare 
Are heavy weights for souls to bear. 
But, when I left, a flame of light 
Went with me through the solemn night, 

[7Z] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

I walked in splendor in a place 

Large as illimitable space, 

Peace through the mists of doubting smiled, 

And life and death were reconciled. 



[74] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 



The Borglum Statue of Lincoln in the 
Court House Square, Newark, N. J. 

I THINK there is no other monument 
Raised up to merit out of brass or stone 
So beautiful as this : it stands alone, 
Outreaching far the artist's first intent, 
By grace of one sweet human incident . 
Round all the high, horsed heroes I have known 
An undisturbed indifference has grown, 
Which neither time nor wonder can prevent. 
But he is on the ground, and children play 
Upon his knees, and stroke the earnest face 
That shines with their caresses, and all day 
He is their comfort in the public place : 
The rigid bronze itself cannot conceal 
That sheltering heart which little children feel. 



[75] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



She Will Come 

AFTER a tedious day 
Of unavailing toil, 
Weary of heart and brain, 
Disconsolate and faint, 
I seek my friendly couch 
For respite and release, 
Repeating as I go 
"Tomorrow she will come." 

The darkness and the deep, 
Cool silence of the night 
Enwrap me, and I dream. 

Then in a happy place 

Upon a far green hill 

The sunlight shines again. 

There the warm winds distil 

From hyacinth and rose 

Their sweet quintessences 

To be the breath of life. 

There singing streams floAV down 

From fountains crystalline, 

[76] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 

And on their mossy banks 
The Nereids and fauns 
Dance to the reeds of Pan 
In glad abandonment. 
There the lithe Oreads 
Ply every game and sport 
In honor of the trees, 
And jocund forests shake 
Their ancient sides in mirth. 
Color and light and shade, 
And all dear harmonies 
Of poesy and truth 
And fellowship are there. 
There the great boon of health 
And innocent content 
Lead on the grateful hours, 
And every heart is free. 
And pain and aching thought, 
And tedium and care 
Are alien enemies. 
And when the sun retires 
Behind the arras drawn 
Across the stage of day. 
The night begins a new 
Succession of delights 
With moon, and golden stars, 
And blessed memories 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

Of music that has ceased, 
And a wide heaven of dreams. 

Then I awake and say, 
''This is the day she comes." 



[78] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 



Spring 

SWEET are the maiden promises of spring, 
Her voice comes wandering like some mut- 
ed tone 
From far-off symphonies, and everything 
She wears is but a veiling lightly thrown 
Around the form of beauty. She will seem 
Demurely chaste and reticent awhile, 
But in her eyes is youth's eternal dream , 
And all the light of passion in her smile. 
When the bold sun, her lover, argues down 
Her shy reserves, then Avill her lips confess 
Her timorous deep desire, and she will crown 
Her fealty with wondrous fruitfulness. 
And Avhen her time is done, the earth will praise 
Her blithe and rosy breed of summer days. 



[79] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



The Dogwood 

IT is a rare delight to see 
The snow-bloom of the dogwood tree 
All virginal against the sheen 
Of April 's early budding green. 
When violet and buttercup 
Their timid heads are lifting up, 
When dandelions fringe the pass 
And dews have gemmed the tender grass, 
He opens to the morning light 
His fragrant chalices of white. 
He cannot stay : he comes to show 
That spring intends the heart shall know 
Yet once again the primal Avortli 
Of all the loveliness of earth — 
The cordial sky, the thought of flowers, 
Of friendly trees and singing bowers, 
The angel spirits all the day 
Around us where the children play, 
Fair fields of grain that promise soon 
Their cornucopias of June, 
And sweet romance that never fails 
Of lovers and of bridal veils. 

[80] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 

A little term of shade and sun, 

And all his ministry is done. 

A fitting symbol seemeth he 

Of all onr fair mortality : 

So youth departs ; so not for long 

Abides the ecstacy of song ; 

So brief are all the splendors laid 

About the dawn ; so faces fade ; 

So dies the moonlight on a stream; 

And so is life a little dream. 



[8i] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



May Again 

AGAIN the southern winds at ease 
Caress the blossom-laden trees, 
AVhile 'er the heavens gay 
Is writ in gold and hues of wine 
A brightly blazoned script divine — 
May comes again, sweet May. 

Again what glories wake the dawn, 

And how old warrior trouble, wan 

And weak, is driven out ; 

With what clear throats the sparrows sing, 

HoAV musical the drone bee's wing. 

And how the children shout ! 

Four walls are all too narrow now — 
I follow where the sturdy plow 
Has turned the fragrant mead, 
Where growing green things rise in line 
Like soldiers, or where soft-eyed kine 
On new-spring grasses feed. 

[82] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 

But sweeter than all nature rife 

With song- and bloom that zest of life 

Which fills the spirit up 

With joy new-born of homely food 

And peace that whispers "God is good," 

And overruns my cup. 

what of the dreams that faded fast, 

Or the fickle "gleam" that glanced and passed, 
Or the wine that turned to rue. 

1 hold a wand, as May can vow. 
With magic healing, and somehow 
The heavens and earth are new. 

In coat of hope-and-courage clad, 
I am a bold Sir Galahad, 
On quests that cannot fail. 
For with clear vision now I see 
That one who daih^ walks with me 
Holds up the holy Grail. 



[83] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



L 'Envoi 

wonder love, whose tender might 

Through checkered years of cloud and light 

Has been both balm and goad, 

Be thou my May when winters chill, 

My Sarras set upon a hill, 

The ending of ni}^ road. 



[84] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 



Summer Magic 

SO maii}^ cares to vex the day, 
So many fears to haunt the night, 
My heart was all but weaned away 
From every lure of old delight. 
Then summer came, announced by June, 
With beauty, miracle and mirth. 
She hung aloft the rounding moon, 
She poured her sunshine on the earth, 
She drove the sap and broke the bud. 
She set the crimson rose afire, 
She stirred again my sullen blood, 
And waked in me a new desire. 
Before my cottage door she spread 
The softest carpet nature weaves, 
And deftly arched above my head 
A canopy of shady leaves. 
Her nights were dreams of jeweled skies. 
Her days were bowers rife with song, 
And many a scheme did she devise 
To heal the hurt and soothe the wrong. 
For on the hill or in the dell. 
Or where the brook went leaping by 

[85] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



Or where the fields would surge and swell 

With golden wheat or bearded rye, 

I felt her heart against my own, 

I breathed the SAveetness of her breath. 

Till all the eark of time had flown, 

And I was lord of life and death. 



[86] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 



Sacred Music at Sea 

ARISE, dear music ! 'er the rolling waves 
Let harmony abound in praise of Him 
Whose mighty hand upholds us, and who saves 
Our course from erring, though the way be dim. 

Tell of the warring waters, and the sky 
That calms them on the red horizon's rim, 
And how the clouds are shepherded on high 
By winds that blow a tribute unto Him. 

Speak, trombone, of the horrid ocean blast, 
Cry, cornet, to the fimw hordes that swim 
Far down where none can fathom, slow or fast, 
On errands of sure service unto Him. 

Say, baritones and altoes, how the light 
Of stars in heaven guides the seraphim. 
Till the unshadowed sun dissolves the night 
To blaze a golden pathway unto Him. 

Sound, drums and tubas, like a thunder storm, 
Scream clarionets, like bold sea gulls that skim 
The curling billow, on whose awful form 
Their dail}^ food is offered up by Him. 

[87] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

Let rippling notes from the small piccolo 
Be for the compass tremulous and slim, 
But pointing through all gloom the way we go 
By laws immutably ordained of Him. 

And let the heart of every instrument 
Laud the good ship that heeds not any whim 
Of wind or flood, but faithful and unspent 
Makes for the harbor built of old by Him. 

rise, ye hymns of all the lands that be, 
And if for joy mine eyes shall overbrim, 
It is that though we all go down to sea 
In ships we cannot drift afar from Him. 



[88] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 



Vacation End 

FROM the charm of radiant faces, 
From the days we took to dream, 
From the joy of open spaces. 
From the mountain and the stream, 
Bronzed of sunlight, nerves a-tingie, 
Keen of limb and clear of head, 
Sliced we back again to mingle 
In the battle for our bread. 
Now again the stern commanding 
Of the chosen task is heard. 
And the tyrant, care, is standing 
Arbiter of deed and word. 
But the radiance is not ended, 
And the joy, whate'er the cost, 
Which those fleeting days attended 
Never can be wholly lost. 
For we bring to waiting duty, 
To the labor and the strife. 
Something of the sense of beauty. 
And a fairer view of life. 



[89] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



Boys Swimming 

THERE scarcely is a finer thing to see 
Than lithe lads swimming in a running 
stream, 
Cleaving the tide with breast-stroke gracefully, 
The waters slipping by with wave and gleam. 

They make delight of one vast element 
Which mankind looked upon so long with fear, 
Taught unawares to be self-confident 
In venturing' a hazardous career. 



[90] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 



A Legend of the Easter Children 

THE legends say children were first 
To be abroad that Easter day 
When morning out of darkness burst, 
And angels rolled the stone away. 
For children's hearts are quick to feel 
The deadening pall of mortal pain, 
And children's hearts are first to heal 
When light and comfort come again. 
And they had loved the Lord Christ's face, 
And on His knees had laughed and cried. 
And heard Him say the heavenly place 
Is where all child-like souls abide. 
And they had often heard Him tell 
Strong men, by pride and greed defiled. 
That they could never please Him well 
Till they were humble as a child 
And they had heard the tale that grieves 
All little hearts : how one so dear 
W^as nailed upon a cross with thieves. 
And tortured with a poisoned spear ; 
And how the temple's wondrous veil 
Was riven by the lightning stroke, 

[91] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

While, mingled with the women's wail, 
The earthquake and the thunder broke ; 
And how there came from northern seas 
A terrified brigade of gulls, 
Swept on by some unearthly breeze, 
To scream above the place of skulls; 
And how black night came down at noon, 
And ghosts, from graves that opened wide. 
Skulked out beneath a blood-red moon, 
When He that loved the children died. 

For two long days no girl or boy 
In Galilee or Jordan plain • 
Could laugh or sing, for hope and joy 
In every little heart was slain. 
But when the earth, that third day morn, 
Was flooded with such golden light 
As never since the world was born 
Had come to dazzle human sight. 
Then every child, the legends say, 
Knew that the time was at an end. 
Knew that the stone was rolled away. 
And flew to meet the risen Friend . 
And long before the Magdalene 
Had reached the empty sepulchre. 
Or Peter heard what she had seen. 
Or fleet John hastened after her, 

[92] 



POEMS OF APPRECIATION 

The children had gone forth and found 
The Master in the garden walk, 
And scattered lillies on the ground, 
And seen His smile, and heard Him talk. 
No child was puny, halt or lame, 
Or hungr}^, or in tatters clad. 
But clothed as if in light they came. 
And all were whole, and strong, and glad. 

They throng along the Kedron rill. 
They thread the city through the gates 
Straight up to Joseph's garden hill, 
Where He that loves the children waits. 
They sing, they dance, they climb the trees. 
They circle round in ring and file ; 
They know they cannot fail to please. 
And win the guerdon of His smile. 
He lifts His hand : ' ^ I bore the pain 
Of death for men by sin defiled, 
I rise henceforth to live and reign 
Lord of the kingdom of the Child." 
They vanish, and He stands alone ; 
And when the women come to weep, 
The garden flames with flowers new-blown-- 
The children are at home asleep. 

[93] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

"What makes that garden spot so bright!'' 
The learned Rabbis stroked their chins ; 
The}^ knew not yet that love is light, 
That knowledge fails where love begins. 
But somehow still on Easter morn 
The world is beautiful again, 
And in each child-like heart is born 
Some 3'earning of good will to men, 
Some haunting sense, some happy dream^ 
Of singing birds, of daffodils, 
Of olive branches, or the gleam 
Of dew-shine on the Syrian hills. 



[94] 



SONGS 



SONGS 



Sweetest, let no cloud of sorrow 

SWEETEST, let no cloud of sorrow 
Cast a shadow o'er us; 
Let no dark foreboding borrow 
One bright ray from that tomorrow 
Beckoning before us. 

Weary waiting, toil and trouble — 
These shall not confound us. 
All the hardship is a bubble : 
AVe can love, and that is double 
All the world around us. 

Can it matter, sweetest, whether 
Days be dull or shining? 
If our hearts are knit together. 
Summer time or winter weather 
Ne'er shall know repining. 



[97] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



Lady, who is richer far 

LADY who is richer far 
Than titled heirs or princes are 
Who hath quaffed a drink divine 
Rarer than the rarest wine? 

He to whom your eyes are kind, 
He to whom you have a mind, 
Who by your proud election sips 
The honeyed nectar of your lips. 



[98] 



SONGS 



All through the day I bore the pain 

ALL through the day I bore the pain 
or following after thee in vain. 
All through the night the demons sent me 
Dream and fancy to torment me. 
Now the hope I built upon 
Rises with another sun, 
And Avhatever the toil or pain 
I follow after thee ag-ain. - 



[99] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



Mutatis Mutandis 

WHEN my lady goeth fairly, 
And her countenance is rarely 
Lighted by the things that please her, 
Mien and happy mood according 
Are themselves the sweet rewarding 
Of the kindling eye that sees her. 

But when her course is out of measure. 
Or some stirring of displeasure 
Tints her face with hues that never 
Fell on canvas, or from darkling 
Troubled brow her eyes are sparkling. 
She is lovelier than ever. 



[lOO] 



POEMS OF THE SPIRIT 



POEMS OF THE SPIRIT 



A Prayer 

O MASTER, let me labor through the day 
Quietl}^, 3"et with clear, unswerving aim. 
Teach me indifference to praise or blame, 
So long as with good conscience I can say 
I sought to find the straight and narrow way. 
If suddenly the fires of passion flame 
About me, let me calm them with that Name 
Which in my heart I never could betray. 
And when the light fails, and untroubled sleep 
Has clothed my senses with its sweet reward, 
give my spirit then a large increase 
Of strength for one more day of striving ; keep 
The gateway of my dreams ; and wake me, Lord, 
To walk again the manly paths of peace. 



[103] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



A Far Country 

BEYOND the cities I have seen, 
Beyond the wrack and din, 
There is a wide and fair demesne 
Where I have never been. 

Away from desert wastes of greed. 
Over the peaks of pride, 
Across the seas of mortal need 
Its citizens abide. 

And through the distance though I see 
How stern must be the fare, 
My feet are ever fain to be 
Upon the journey there. 

In that far land the only school 
The dwellers all attend 
Is built upon the Golden Rule, 
And man to man is friend. 

No war is there nor war 's distress, 
But truth and love increase — 
It is a realm of pleasantness. 
And all her paths are peace. 

[104] 



POEMS OF THE SPIRIT 



Nil Desperandum 

OFT when the way I go lies hard and steep 
Before me, and I cannot see my goal : 
When those dream-kindled hopes wherewith m}^ 

soul 
Lighted the path have failed ; when I could weep 
To think how slow, unfirm a pace I keep. 
How weak my faith, how slight my self-control. 
Or will to speed me forward, though the whole 
O'er-ripe world-harvest waits ahead to reap ; — 
Oft in these hours I listen to the voice 
Of seers and heroes through the ages past. 
Who knew at length the metes and bounds of 

fate. 
And alwa5^s, whatsoe'er their lot or choice. 
One clear command they give : Or slow or fast, 
Despair not, trust thyself, and trusting, wait. 



[105] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



Ideal 

OWHEN I am tossed on the waters of 
sorrow, 
Uncertain and sick, without compass or goal, 
With no light for today, and no hope for to- 
morrow. 
And fear is a torture to body and soul ; 

When fruitless endeavor, or thwarted ambition, 
The anguish of loving or physical pain 
Brings sobering thoughts of the rapid transition 
Of year into year without comfort or gain — 

It is easy and well from out of that sorrow, 
infinite Goodness, to cry unto Thee 
For light for today, and hope for tomorrow. 
For guidance and faith on a desolate sea. 

But teach me, Spirit, that harder devotion 
When skies are serene and the sailing is fair. 
When the haven lies white on the rim of the 

ocean. 
And love is the captain to pilot me there. 

[io6] 



POEMS OF THE SPIRIT 

For if then I remember to honor and love Thee, 
And own that from Thee every blessing is sent, 
When the waters of sorrow would gather above 

me 
Thy merciful care shall be quick to prevent. 



[107] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



The Wonder 

I MARVEL not to see the works of God. 
The mighty river rolling to the sea, 
The sunlit mountain crowned eternally 
AVith crystal snow, the earthquake like a rod 
Of vengeance, trumpet winds and flowers that 

nod 
In beauty, all the heavenly majesty — 
These from my childhood up have been to me 
Familiar voices saying, ' ' God is God. ' ' 
But evermore the wonder grows amain 
That we, slight creatures, should ourselves com- 
mand 
The uses and the beauty of the whole 
To build a harp, with strings of joy and pain 
In endless range, whereon the Master's hand 
May strike the music of a human soul. 



[io8] 



POEMS OF THE SPIRIT 



Watch Night 

'np IS mystic midnight, and the bell 

JL Cleaves the cold air and tolls away 
The haggard year. Alas ! no spell 
Can lure him on to meet the day. 

The new year at the selfsame hour 
On winged sandals never slack 
Begins his course. Alas ! no power 
Can hold his flying footsteps back. 

Stay not, heart, for time nor tide, 
Nor count the days that now are done, 
But spread the wdngs of purpose wide, 
Coeval with the rising sun. 



[109] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



Valu 



es 



IN God's high heaven and in His earth 
These things I hold of matchless worth 
Health and a task, the dreams of youth, 
Beauty and law, and love, and truth. 



[no] 



POEMS OF THE SPIRIT 



Tyrant Beauty 

MY mind is set on earnest days 
And nights of quiet sleeping, 
But beauty over all my ways 
A tyrant watch is keeping. 

She haunts me in a lovely face, 
By pool and stream she stays me. 
Her form in every cloud I trace, 
Her starry sky betrays me. 

Hers is the mantling down of snow, 
Hers is the solemn warning 
Of dirges that the north winds blow, 
And hers the burst of morning. 

She forges all the human ties 

That bind me to my neighbor; 

She wreathes the laurel crown that lies 

Upon the brow of labor. 

A golden bird in a budding tree 
Pours out his heart in singing — 

[III] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

Which tells the more of beauty, he 
Or the bud where the sap is springing 

No time or place is left to me 
By night or day for resting ; 
Her finger points, and I must be 
Adventuring and questing. 

Let this austere dominion cease, 
beauty, to distress me. 
Or grant to me a vast increase 
Of poAver to express thee. 



[112] 



POEMS OF THE SPIRIT 



The Three Marys 

THAT blessed morn three Marys came 
To glorify the Easter scene — 
Martha's sister, Mary dame, 
And the repentant Magadalene. 

One by a perfect love was led, 

One brought a mother's sore distress, 

One wore upon her lovely head 

A chastened crown of thankfulness. 

And these by loyal suffering 
Were made as one in sweet accord, 
Through whom the generations bring 
Increasing homage to their Lord. 



[113] 



THE WINGS OP OPPRESSION 



Companionship 

I CLOSED the door and turned the key 
And spread my book upon my knee, 
But though I pondered well that lore, 
I ended wanting something more. 

I called a comrade friend to share 
M}^ quiet room. His speech was fair, 
His spirit high, his discourse wide. 
But I was still unsatisfied. 

Then in the stillness all alone 
My soul rose up to claim her own 
Inviolable right to be, 
Father, face to face with Thee. 



[114] 



POEMS OF THE SPIRIT 



Home is the Heart 

MY dwelling place hath ever been 
A spirit-builded home within, 
And though at whiles I fare apart, 
My mistress still is mistress heart. 

Sometimes the brazen horn success 
Drowns all her tones of tenderness, 
And then I goad my will and dream 
To win the things that men esteem. 

Sometimes the meaning and the end 
Of living seems to be a friend, 
Whose comprehending kindred mind 
Is all the boon I crave to find. 

And often, too, where beauty's sign 
Appears, I make that standard mine. 
While pleasure lifts a luring voice 
To rob my will of other choice. 

Then honor calls ; the give and take 
Of combat stirs my soul awake, 

[IIS] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 

Where men through troubled ages long 
Clash in the lists of right and wrong. 

But what success can be complete? 
What perfect friends did ever meet 
In fellowship so well inspired 
But something more was still desired ? 

And beauty wanes, and pleasure palls, 
And all the pride of honor falls 
When carnal strife has claimed her toll 
Of ravished limb and tarnished soul. 

With clearer vision then I see 
Content in these can never be, 
And all the folly is disclosed 
Of trust in outward things reposed. 

And with that lesson I return 
To where the lamps of loving burn — 
Turn home again — and now aright 
I walk by an unfailing light. 



[ii6] 



POEMS OF THE SPIRIT 



Compensation 

IF only in thine heart there be 
Some depth of earnest gratitude 
For life's great bounties unto thee, 
Though pain will come and fears intrude, 
Thou canst not wholly miss the crown 
Of those by heaven accounted blessed : 
Patience will bring a healing down, 
And peace will give the spirit rest. 



[117] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



Certainty 

WHAT have I fathomed of life, 
What of its medley of strife, 
Sorrow and solace profound? 
What can we creatures of dust 
Stand upon, swear by, and trust, 
What my unshakable ground? 

This : that though evil be strong. 
Goodness prevaileth ere long, 
However betrayed or beset ; 
That he his own spirit doth smother 
Who willeth the hurt of another. 
And this : that God liveth yet. 



[ii8] 



POEMS OF THE SPIRIT 



In the Still Night 

IN the still night there comes to me 
The blessed boon of liberty. 
From all the cares that chafed and choked, 
The spirit is at last unyoked 
To seek her heaven, as she ought, 
On sturdy wings of fearless thought. 
Then come the dreams which through the day 
The moil of living shuts away. 
Then can the soul her fountains fill. 
While all the universe is still, 
From streams of quietness that rise 
Out of the hills of Paradise. 
And I can tell the day was meant 
For some design beneficent. 
For sweet-imagined sounds I hear. 
And forms of beauty hover near 
To win me to the perfect trust 
That life is good, and God is just. 
And permeates His world whereof 
The essence and the end is love. 



[119] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



Father Love 

NOT unto him does heaven grant to bend 
By day and night above the creamy cheek 
And dimpled smile of baby. 'Tis the meek, 
Sweet privilege of mother to attend 
The cradle shrine. There patience without end 
Wins her a beauty words can never speak. 
Her troubled joy has nothing more to seek 
Where life and love in one devotion blend. 
For him the roughened world, all day for him 
The tyrant task, the tension of the mind. 
But toil were vain as any froth or foam. 
Were not that hour to come when twilight dim 
Brings weariness, and father turns to find 
Rest with the blessed angels of his home. 



[I20] 



POEMS OF THE SPIRIT 



Divine Affinity 

'ry^WERE vain, God, in me to tell 

I Thy potency divine : 
Omniscience surely knoweth well 
How much of me is thine. 
As is the steel to the magnet bar, 
As to the rose the bee, 
The earth to its compelling star , 
So am I, God, to Thee. 



[121] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



Learning to Walk 

OUR little cherub learned today 
To stand alone and make her way. 
With faltering will and timid feet 
From mother's knee to father's seat. 

With many a failure, many a pause, 
Now by rebuke, now by applause, 
With tears and oft-recurring doubt, 
She toiled her little journey out. 

And ever as her faith declined, 

She strove anew, for there behind 

Was mother's sweetly crooned command. 

And on ahead her father's hand. 

And 0, at last when she survived 

Her tiny perils and arrived, 

What depths of feeling unexpressed 

Were stirred within each guardian breast! 

We older children of the earth 

Have journeyed farther from our birth, 

- [122] 



POEMS OF THE SPIRIT 



But doubt and pain and dark delay 
Attend the journey all the way. 

And all our balm for heart or mind 
Is merely this, that we shall find, 
Before we come to utter harm, 
The refuge of a Father's arm. 



[123] 



THE WINGS OF OPPRESSION 



The Teacher 

LORD, who am I to teach the way 
To little children day by day, 
So prone myself to go astray ? 

I teach them knowledge, but I know 
How faint they flicker and how low 
The candles of my knowledge glow. 

I teach them power to will and do, 

But only now to learn anew 

My own great weakness through and through. 

I teach them love for all mankind 
And all God's ceatures, but I find 
My love comes lagging far behind. 

Lord, if their guide I still must be. 

Oh let the little children see 

The teacher leaning^ hard on Thee. 



[124] 



